


Contradictions

by Meatball42



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Communication, Complicated Relationships, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Post-Betrayal, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: Tony has a lot of contradictory feelings in general. His method for dealing with these contradictory feelings is to pretend they don’t exist, and move on with life as usual.It’s not that easy with Steve.





	Contradictions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwasanartist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasanartist/gifts).

> Thanks to riseupwiseupeyesup for reading this through.

After the one-two punch of the Scarlet Witch and Thor takes down Thanos in an almost embarrassingly short fight, life… goes on. The Earth keeps turning, people keep trying to kill each other, the Avengers are still needed.

The Avengers, inclusive. Cap’s team of AWOL heroes are media darlings once again, thanks to a positive media blitz coordinated by Wakanda. Tony can admire the skill even if he’s not a fan of the results.

Or maybe he is happy about it. His feelings about the return of the so-called ‘Rogue Avengers’ are necessarily a complicated mess, but his therapist says it’s fine to feel contradictory things about someone. Uh, some people, that is.

Tony is used to contradictory feelings. He was hurt when Pepper called them off once and for all, but also relieved, they really were better off as friends and it let him move on to eventually be with Steve. He never wants to see Bucky Barnes’ face ever again, but he also empathizes with a man who was captured and tortured and didn’t have an ally and tools and an opportunity to escape. His method for dealing with these contradictory feelings is to pretend they don’t exist, and move on with life as usual.

It’s not that easy with Steve.

Because Steve lives at the Avengers complex again, just an hour’s drive or a five minute flight in the suit from Stark Tower. And because Tony has to see him twice a week for Avengers responsibilities. And because he dyed his hair and grew a beard, and someone taught him how to style both and it wasn’t Tony and none of it is fair.

His heart jumps every time he sees Steve at the complex. That thrilling sensation is often accompanied by a surge of anger or the bitter taste of regret.

Today, it’s just plain bitterness. He pretends not to watch as Sam claps Steve on the shoulder and reminds him they’re shooting hoops after lunch. Tony wants to be the one with plans, the one who gets to touch that wine-red sweater. It’s clingy, but understated, not tight like spandex the way Steve’s clothes used to be

Tony wonders if Sam was the one who taught Steve about styling, maybe took a hands-on approach. He seethes in silence and focuses on his tablet.

He’s sitting in the common space, trying to seem relaxed and confident. He went two years without setting foot in the complex, not since his last face-to-face with Natasha during the Accords fiasco. The memories that came back when he walked through the front door are unsettling. He remembers when they were building the place. He remembers training modules and late-night dinners and boring PowerPoint presentations. He remembers sneaking down to Steve’s room at one in the morning, coughing into his coffee when Steve dropped innuendo into the morning meeting, deadpan and unquestionable. He remembers Steve pressing him into smooth concrete walls with the weight of his body, remembers nearly getting caught and not caring because they both needed it  _ now now now. _

And now, he can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and it makes his breath come deeper. Sense memory, for sure, but which memories? Is he breathless from the echoes of their kisses, or the memory of the chestplate breaking in two, cracking his ribs?

“Tony?”

He looks up from his tablet and he knows his cheeks are flushed, even though he’s been doing nothing but sit on the couch. Steve sees it too, and when their eyes meet, it’s electrifying.

Tony wishes he knew if his pulse was quickening from lust or fear.

“Can I speak with you?”

Steve nods at the East wing. It hasn’t been reopened, so it’s a good place for a private conversation. Tony follows him and pretends he isn’t sneaking glances at Steve’s well-tailored pants.

When they find an empty corridor, Steve clears his throat. “I need your update on the endowment. You said there were delays from the investment firm, have they cleared up?”

Tony has to blink and clear his own throat. He’s gotten distracted by the apology in Steve’s eyes, obvious despite the neutral conversation. Jeez, Tony shows his emotion in the eyes, too, but at least he has the decency to wear sunglasses whenever there’s a risk.

“Yeah, of course.” He pulls up the relevant files on his tablet. “It’s looking good. As always, I think the Avengers could stand to invest a little more heavily in Stark Industries, but I understand the need for separation. Just saying, we are rolling out some promising new products in the next quarter; it’d be a safe bet.”

He rambles to ignore the way Steve steps closer to peer over the side of the tablet. Then he happens to look up just as Steve does that cute half-smile.

“Sounds like insider trading,” Steve says dryly.

“For your information, Stark Industries always has something amazing coming out, that’s common knowledge.”

Steve chuckles, and steps closer, and tries to take the tablet out of Tony’s hands, and Tony just… doesn’t let go.

Steve’s gaze flickers, down to their hands on opposite sides of the file, then back up to Tony’s face. Instead of letting go or tugging harder, you know, normal responses, he steps closer, into Tony’s personal space.

Tony doesn’t react until Steve’s nose is brushing his. “Don’t,” he whispers.

It’s stupid because he brought this on himself. It’s stupid because Steve knows he doesn’t mean it, they both know that he doesn’t mean it and Steve kisses him anyway. His lips are cool and soft and perfect, exactly perfect.

“Don’t,” Tony says again. This time he pushes against Steve’s chest.

It happens fast, like a spark hitting oil. Steve grabs his wrist and Tony pushes harder, but only causes himself to take a step back. Steve pulls, Tony tries to twist out of the hold and somehow ends up with his back against the wall, and then Steve’s body is against his, boxing him in, just like old times.

It feels… God, it feels like everything Tony’s wanted for the last two years and told himself he didn’t need anymore. Steve’s breath on his cheek, Steve’s aftershave, Steve’s heat, Steve, Steve, Steve.

He turns his head at the same time Steve does and they’re kissing hard and wet, without any technique, hungry for each other in a way time and enmity have only intensified. Tony moans into it, rakes his fingers across Steve’s back; his hand was freed when Steve clutched at his body, pulled him so close that there was no air between them. His skin feels electric where they touch, where Steve’s muscles are tense against his.

Steve breaks away to kiss Tony’s neck. Tony closes his eyes so he can feel it better, Steve’s clever lips that remember exactly how he likes it, gentle down the front and then harsher up along the tendon, teasing behind his ear, hands gripping his ribcage to hold him in place while Tony cards through his hair, his head tipped back.

They’re going to end up fucking in one of the conference rooms along this hallway, like they did a dozen times before, the way this is going there’s no other ending possible, and then Steve slides his hand up Tony’s chest.

Tony stiffens and pushes Steve away for real this time. It’s his turn to grab Steve by the wrist, but this grip is tight and terrified and  _ meant _ in a way that Steve’s hadn’t been.

Steve freezes, a half step away, his upraised arm in Tony’s grasp. They stay like that for a second, another, both realizing consciously what happened on instinct.

Tony lets go. Neither of them move.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, meaning for the touch, but it hangs in the air, vibrating between them, and the weight it takes on is so much more.

Tony has to look away. His sunglasses have ended up on the floor by the opposite wall. There’s nothing else to hide what’s in his eyes.

The silence isn’t awkward. They’re years and a damned, failed relationship past awkward.

Tony waits for the fresh hurt in his chest to settle. He doesn’t know what Steve’s waiting for. He never could get inside that man’s head.

“Are you… afraid of me?” Steve asks, his voice low.

Tony is almost glad for the mental distraction. He huffs a laugh, desperate for deflection. “If you run fight simulators between us at various equipment levels, I’ve actually got a decent adv—”

“Please, don’t.” Steve steps forward again, presses Tony against the wall gently this time. Tony breathes in, sharp, but this time Steve leans his forehead against Tony’s temple and just rests his body against Tony’s. His eyes are closed and his hands are on Tony’s hips, and it’s like when they would be in bed together, peaceful and content. “Please, just. Make it simple.”

Tony closes his eyes, too. It doesn’t block out the memories.

“Sometimes,” he admits.

Steve’s breath is shaky. “I always said I wouldn’t be the kind of man who makes people he loves afraid of him.”

There’s nothing really to say to that.

Steve picks his head up, meets Tony’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

This time, it means what it needs to mean.


End file.
